


SIDDICK HOES OUT (50 Shades of Diq) - EXPANDED QUARANTINE EDITION

by DiqazonQueen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Multi, This is all one hundred percent canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiqazonQueen/pseuds/DiqazonQueen
Summary: Happy Easter
Relationships: Aaron/Siddiq (Walking Dead), Maggie Greene/Siddiq, Rosita Espinosa/Siddiq, Siddiq/many many others
Kudos: 1





	SIDDICK HOES OUT (50 Shades of Diq) - EXPANDED QUARANTINE EDITION

Not long after the bridge blew up and Rick was thought to have been lost in the explosion, Siddiq taught Enid how to use the ultrasound machine. Michonne had confided in him that she suspected she might be pregnant and wanted an ultrasound to be sure.

During her appointment, Siddiq was able to confirm that Michonne was indeed six weeks pregnant, with a baby. However, he noticed Enid didn't seem to be paying attention as he explained what he was doing to her, like her mind was focused on something else.

Siddiq congratulated Michonne on her pregnancy and urged her to come on by whenever she felt like it, knowing how much stress she was under, and even offered to babysit Judith for her anytime. She thanked him for his support and left.

Once Michonne was gone, Speculum turned to his protégé. "So, Enid, what's on your mind? I don't think you were hearing a word I was saying during that whole ultrasound."

"I don't wanna say," the girl grumbled as she crossed the room to sit on a cot with angst.

_Grr, teens,_ Siddiq thought to himself, even though Enid, now around eighteen or nineteen, was supposed to be considered an adult. He walked over and sat next to her on the cot.

"You can tell me anything, you know. I won't judge."

Minutes later, Siddiq was explaining to Enid in no uncertain terms that he would absolutely _not_ have sex with her, but also that she shouldn't be ashamed. She _was_ getting older, after all. He did all he could to tell her that this was totally normal and okay, especially since he knew there were enough people out there shaming women for expressing interest in sex, even after the end of the world.

"I can't say I'm comfortable with the idea of getting up close and personal with you to help you with your problem," he finished as he headed over to his secret drawer, "but I _will_ throw you a bone. Just, not like _that._ " He reached into the drawer and produced a single vibrator. Doctors in the Victorian era had them, and so did he, or just this lonely one that he'd been holding onto for the past year. He had thought to keep it when he found it in case he needed to use it to massage a patient's sore muscles or something.

He passed the toy to a wide-eyed Enid – "It's yours to keep, here's the button, figure out the rest yourself, have fun, and please, let's never speak of this again" – and dismissed her for the day. "Come back tomorrow at nine a.m. sharp so I can teach you how to insert a catheter."

Enid muttered her thanks and prepared to leave.

"Oh, and Enid, some mentorly advice." She turned, halfway out the door already. "If some white guy with curly hair and a funny accent comes on to you, I don't know, days from now, months from now, even years from now, don't feel like you have to sleep with him. Remember that."

* * *

The next day, Siddiq showed Enid the ins and outs of catheterization, demonstrating on a dummy and then letting her try.

"Excellent!" he praised as she perfectly inserted the narrow tube into the dummy's not very anatomically accurate urethra, since it was just plastic.

She grinned, surprising Siddiq by throwing her arms around him.

_Whew, dodged a bullet with that._

She hadn't mentioned the vibrator, much to his relief, but the change in her demeanor from the day before was drastic. Sure, he had felt awkward presenting his sexually frustrated young apprentice with a vibrator, but it was better than the alternative, and he was glad to have helped her. And weren't doctors supposed to help people?

Siddiq had been with the group for going on two years now and enjoyed being able to serve his community as its doctor. However, he wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was often approached by healthy, uninjured people who were clearly looking for another kind of "help".

In other words, he got hit on. A lot.

Siddiq "didn't know why". He didn't think he was anything special. He wondered if part of it was simply that a lot of Alexandrians were looking to fulfill a doctor/patient fantasy and he was there.

Some weeks later, he was in the infirmary with Aaron, helping him try on the few temporary options for prosthetic hands Siddiq had scrounged up since his accident. They were casually chatting, Aaron's stump covered by the prosthetic he'd decided to use until a permanent one was made at Hilltop for him, when Siddiq said, "Aaron, if you want to try another one, that's fine, because it'll keep me busy if someone's waiting to come in to say they have a case of hysteria."

"No, I like this one, but what was that, Siddiq?"

Siddiq gathered up the other prosthetics and carried them to a nearby drawer to be put away. "I've kind of had this problem for a long time with people coming here and _not_ because they're coughing or in need of a bandage, if you know what I mean." He snorted. "Or they'll fake it. Badly."

Aaron chuckled. "No surprise there. I mean, look at you."

Siddiq rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on–"

"No, I'm serious. Have you seen yourself? That and you're so kind and helpful, too."

"Stop it, Aaron," Siddiq groaned, shaking his head. "I–"

"You have the most beautiful eyes, Siddiq. They're like your own personal built-in weapon."

"I'm blushing–"

"And your hair. It's so pretty and wavy. You should grow it out."

"Okay, Aaron, I know I'm hot!" Snapdragon finally snapped. "I know damn well that I'm hot! It's just that there's so many people who want to have sex with me, and I'm sure you can understand that this is a bit of a moral conflict for me."

"Why?" Aaron breathed out, suddenly looking very aroused.

"Because..." Siddiq leaned in close to Aaron to whisper, "... _doctors aren't supposed to be fucking their patients_." Their lips met in a kiss that had all the fervor of almost two years' worth of sexual advances.

They rolled around on the infirmary floor for a bit, sucking face and beard, until Aaron effectively immobilized Siddiq with his body so he could open his pants with his remaining hand and stick the prosthetic one in.

"I gotta see if this new hand works."

Siddiq and Aaron lay on the floor in a daze afterwards.

"I didn't know you sucked dick," the one-armed Alexandrian remarked to the doctor bluntly. Sidedick shrugged.

"I aim to please," he said with a slight laugh. "I'm a doctor. We just can't leave people hangin'."

A few more minutes of companionable silence passed before Siddiq spoke again. "You know what, Aaron? I like to help people. Make them happy. I truly do. That, and I'm no prude, to say the least. I think you just figured that out." He gave Aaron a good-natured nudge.

"I think I'll just go with it the next time someone tries to get into my pants."

* * *

Michonne Grimes was six-and-a-half months pregnant and beyond frazzled. She missed Rick more than she ever thought possible and the ache of grief was unbelievably persistent, especially since she was carrying his child; her frequent searches for him at the bridge had yielded no trace of him alive or otherwise, apart from his gun, so she hadn't even been able to find some closure; Judith, as sweet as she could be sometimes, was generally a four-year-old hellion; plus, she had endless responsibilities as Alexandria's leader, she needed to complete her charter, the baby kept on kicking her bladder, and now she couldn't find Judith's boots.

Her quest for her daughter's adorably tiny cowgirl boots took her to Alexandria's designated town hall, soon to become their council hall, in case they'd somehow ended up there. Much to her surprise, they _were_ there, neatly lined up in the corner as though someone had found them outside and put them where Michonne would eventually see them, and, much to her annoyance, Siddick was also there, clappin' some cheeks over the table.

The last thing Michonne really needed was to get an eyeful of the man she'd come to think of as a little brother.

Michonne managed to walk to the corner, retrieve the boots, and walk back out again unnoticed because the backs of Siddiq and his lover were turned, and the cacophony of their combined moans and the mighty cheek-clapping reverberations drowned out the sound of her now much heavier footsteps.

When that hellish day came about two months later that left a heavily pregnant Michonne beaten, branded, and forever changed, Siddiq's months-old habit of being a manwhore did take a backseat. His focus was on the wellbeing of Michonne and her baby – miraculously, when he thoroughly checked Michonne over after her ordeal, an ultrasound revealed that no harm had come to her unborn child, despite the deep gash on her belly. However, he deduced that the stress of the incident could potentially bring on labor anytime, and he turned away people wanting his dick as he went about preparations for the impending birth and diligently tended to Michonne's physical wounds, just wishing he could do more about the mental ones.

Siddiq was right. Rick Grimes Junior was born not long after Michonne survived the unimaginable, maybe one or two weeks early, but perfectly healthy. In his first couple months of life, Siddiq spent a lot of time with Michonne and her newborn, but mostly as a supportive friend. He was only Dr. Siddiq when it was necessary to check to make sure that the baby and his mother were both doing well, especially since Michonne was still healing.

So, Siddiq intervened medically as little as possible, as he wanted Michonne to enjoy her new baby and not to bother and stress them both out by constantly trying to do exams and take measurements. But, if he _had_ been overexamining him, he didn't think it would've stressed out Michonne's baby anyway. He was the most relaxed newborn Siddiq had ever met. His growth and eating habits were right on track, but the kid's favorite activity was sleeping. Siddiq thought it was nice. Michonne deserved an easy baby after all she'd gone through, especially when her other child was a little spitfire. Siddiq often volunteered for Judith duty while her baby brother was still new. If there was something he could do to help Michonne, he did it, even changing his share of dirty diapers.

Michonne had taken to calling the baby "RJ". Siddiq liked it, because he just couldn't get used to the idea of referring to a young child as "Rick" or "Richard", no matter how hard he tried. But, once RJ wasn't quite a newborn anymore and Michonne was more settled into a routine with him and Judith, she told Siddiq he didn't have to come by as frequently anymore, even though she always appreciated his help.

And what did Siddiq do with more free time? Have sex with more people, of course.

* * *

One morning when RJ was five months old, Siddiq was late for a meeting of Alexandria's recently formed town council. They'd been holding regular meetings to get into the swing of having a council and hadn't really struggled with attendance.

"Well, someone must be hurt," Gabriel suggested when ten minutes went by with no sign of Siddiq.

"No," Michonne sighed. "I know what he's up to." She exited the hall and headed towards the infirmary, but soon found she didn't even need to go that far. Following the moans took her in a different direction and _goddamn_ , she wished she wasn't able to recognize the sounds her surrogate little brother made, just from encountering past situations like this.

Today, the doctor and councilman, well-respected member of Alexandria, was screwing around with someone in one of the parked horse buggies. Michonne sighed again, walked up to the buggy, knocked on the side, and said, "Siddiq? You're ten minutes late for the meeting and we're not starting without you. And, for the love of God, don't say 'coming'."

The morning of another meeting a few weeks later, it happened again. Siddiq was late, Michonne went to fetch him, and found him in a compromising position with one of the gardeners against the south wall of the armory.

"Oh, Siddiq, you completely overwhelm me," the gardener moaned out.

"Sorry about the beard burn, Mrs. Robinson!" Siddiq called out as Michonne dragged him away a short while later. She let them finish what they were doing first, though. She didn't want to punish the woman.

"Please don't fuck," she pleaded, her hand gripping his upper arm. "At least on meeting mornings. If you do, I'll remove you from the council." She was only half serious about that part, but this occurring twice was enough for her.

"I won't. I promise." Siddiq was actually serious.

"Okay then. I'll take your word for it." They were right in front of the council hall and she practically shoved him in. "Walk of shame time."

* * *

Eighteen months after Rick, Siddiq rode to Oceanside to drop off some medical supplies and just that, obviously. When he entered the camp, the women poured out en masse, swarming towards him.

"Ladies, there's plenty of me to go around," he got out before the hornies stripped him naked and hoisted him into the air like an almost six-foot-tall baby prince with facial hair being worshiped by villagers. They tossed him up and he plummeted down into the sand, and the ladies promptly descended upon him, gnawing his nipples, fondling his appendages, and sometimes unknowingly treading on his testiclés. They briefly fought amongst themselves until a particularly dominant Oceanside woman, Helga, emerged victorious and pushed the others to the side so she could be the first to penetrate herself with Siddiq.

"Fist me, doctor. I need you to fist me now!" Bertha, Helga's twin sister, demanded. Siddiq hesitated. Fisting had its share of health risks, his hands weren't exactly small, and he wanted to get through this without having to treat any cases of vaginal tearing. Bertha didn't give him a choice and seized his wrist to stuff his whole hand inside of her. He was glad to hear her immediate squawk of pure pleasure, because it indicated to Squawk that it hadn't hurt her at all.

Even though Siddiq enjoyed the spontaneity and didn't mind the loss of control that came with being the focus of this free-for-all, he had to set some boundaries where he could.

"Yes, you may ride my nose– no, you may _not_ suck my toes."

Maybe after a couple hours, they were done with him. Siddiq stood up on wobbly legs, just barely having enough energy to get dressed. He was covered in sand from head to toe and had come so many times, he felt like someone shot his dick off. The women hadn't shown much consideration to his refractory period, not that he had much of one to begin with. But he'd satisfied them, and that's what mattered.

"Bye, Siddiq," they giggled as he trudged off to where his horse was waiting. He swore the piebald mare was silently judging him.

Before he could hop on the saddle, Cyndie rushed up to him. "Forgetting something?"

"Oh– um, yeah." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Almost forgot why I came here in the first place." The bag of medical supplies he'd intended to drop off – bandages, ointments, basic first-aid accessories – was still hanging off the horse's back with the saddlebags. Saddlebags passed the bag to Cyndie.

"You have fun?" she suddenly blurted out. She hadn't participated, just watched.

"I did," he answered truthfully. "But I think I need to recover for a bit."

She laughed. "You're sweet. Can I have a kiss?"

"Sure thing." He pressed his lips to hers, hoping she wouldn't be bothered by his mouth tasting like vagina. Once they'd separated, Siddiq climbed up on his horse to leave.

As the horse disappeared out of sight, Cyndie called out, "Bye, Siddiq! I'll let you know if we have a baby boom in nine months!"

Siddiq rode past the surrounding swamps on his way home from Oceanside. He was drained after the day he'd had, literally and figuratively.

Hearing a rustling noise come from the swamp brush, he halted his horse, wondering if it was a walker, but his ears couldn't detect any hint of the telltale growling. Curious, Siddiq brought the horse closer to the source of the sound and craned his neck to peer into the undergrowth.

_Oh, so that's where Daryl went off to._

Siddiq hadn't seen the man for the better part of a year, not since he doctored the angry, X-shaped burn on his back from a cattle brand that matched Michonne's now healed scar. Now, the archer, looking even more haggard than Siddiq remembered him, was fighting a losing battle with an adolescent shepherd as the dog kept on latching onto his leg and humping furiously no matter how hard his master tried to pry him off.

"Bad dog," Shepherd heard Daryl grunt to the canine. Still trying in vain to get his pet to stop, the animal's furry pelvis thrusting away centimeters from his knee, Daryl looked up, his eyes meeting Siddiq's.

Awkward eye contact was maintained for ten too-long seconds before Siddiq shuddered and tugged on his horse's reins to gallop home as fast as he could.

* * *

"Oh God, Siddiq." Seated at the meeting table, Michonne looked up from what she was doing as he limped into the council hall and plopped into a chair across from her, exhausted. "Not again."

He hadn't caught a glimpse of his own reflection, but imagined he had the appearance of someone who'd just been reverse gangbanged by over a dozen horny seaside ladies. He knew there was no saving his hair and that his skin tone didn't mean that all the assorted bruises, bites, hickeys, and scratches weren't visible. He must really have looked the picture of debauchery. Michonne's expression confirmed that for him.

"You know, I'm just about to finish this charter, and I can't really do that when you're in here looking like this, reeking of sex and depravity."

"That was _a lot_ ," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. It was sticky and caked with sand. "But Oceanside is doing well– _ACHOO_." He sneezed, and saltwater, sand, pubes, and sunshine flew out of his mouth and nose and across the table. Michonne moved the charter out of the way just in time, got up, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Siddiq, this really has to stop. I'm worried about you, and you and I both know I already have plenty to worry about." He hung his head in shame as she went on, "I know your private life is none of my business, but you could end up with dozens of kids if you're not careful, and trust me, just two's a handful." Right where Michonne could see them, near the table, a now five-year-old Judith was determined to get baby RJ to stand up and walk to her, but the nine-month-old seemed more interested in sleeping than taking steps, protesting loudly every time his sister tried to lift him onto his feet.

She gave him a small smile and Siddiq returned it, considering her words.

"I'm only like this because I want to please everyone," he sighed, shoulders slumping.

"That, and perhaps you genuinely have a high sex drive," Michonne said dryly. "But I've also been thinking, Siddiq– I think you and Rosita would be a cute couple, if you ever consider settling down. You're good friends and seem like you'd compliment each other well. Rosita deserves a man with a heart of gold like you. Better you than like, Gabriel or someone." She chuckled. "Just a thought."

Siddiq blinked and felt his face heat up, to his surprise. "Rosita? No, she's just my friend–" But then the walkie-talkie on his hip turned on with a burst of static, telling him that someone was trying to talk to him. He said goodbye to Michonne and left to take the call.

"Siddiq? Siddiq, do you copy?" came Enid's voice.

"Enid? Yes, how is everything?" She'd been spending a lot of time at Hilltop lately, wanting to take over as the community's doctor at some point in the future. He supported her plans but wanted her to get as much experience as possible before she moved permanently.

"Everything's great. Siddiq, I just delivered a baby!"

"What– Enid, why didn't you tell me?! By yourself?! What if something went wrong and you didn't know what to do?" He didn't think Enid would've kept such a huge event a secret from him, and he didn't _want_ to get upset with her, but he was rather taken aback, especially since he was still supposed to be the communities' main doctor, not his college-age protégé. However, as shocked as he was, he felt more panic rising in him for an entirely different reason.

"Relax! I helped you deliver Hershel, remember?" Enid reminded him. "The mom is fine, the baby is fine. Cute little thing, like a porcelain doll, with big blue eyes."

Siddiq released the breath he'd been holding as quietly as he could in a long exhale. "Oh, okay. Just remember to do the newborn tests. The sucking reflex and such." At least she couldn't see that his expression had changed to one of complete and utter relief.

* * *

Six months later, Siddiq headed out to spend the day at Hilltop in hopes that he could share some medical knowledge. Michonne knew that Alexandria and Hilltop were drifting apart – Hilltop wasn't too keen on some of the decisions she'd had to make over the past year and few months to protect her community – but she still wanted to offer support where it could be offered. Today, it was in the form of Siddiq. It wasn't the first time.

Before he left, Michonne, unraveling a now fifteen-month-old RJ's arms from his leg when the toddler, for once not sleeping, hugged him goodbye, just gave him a look that said, _please don't._

His day at Hilltop started innocently enough, explaining to anyone who was interested the basics of blood-staunching and emergency suturing. All was going as planned until a woman in her forties tapped his shoulder.

"My husband is dead," she told him simply.

He turned his head and offered a smile to the somewhat familiar woman, letting the piece of grass he had between his lips drop to the ground (he'd been holding it there partly in order to embrace his inner Hilltopian, but mainly because he had an oral fixation). She had freckles and curly red hair, and he remembered being told the first time he was shown around Hilltop and introduced to everyone three-and-a-half years ago, after Negan's imprisonment, that she was the single mother of a daughter named Adeline. But he just couldn't remember her name.

"My condolences," he said to the widow, even though he knew very well what she was getting at. _Michonne, forgive me._

"Can you teach me how to tie a tourniquet?" Addy's mom asked him loudly, obviously trying to deflect suspicion. Then, much quieter, she added, "Somewhere private?"

Siddiq glanced around to make sure that no eyes were on them. Once he saw that the coast was clear, they scuttled off to one of the trailers after the woman assured him that it was empty.

Once they were inside, Addy's mom (she'd got it going on), put on a striptease for Striptease, but she didn't get very far before she was interrupted.

"I'm just in here, tending to my potted plants," Bertie sighed from the opposite side of the trailer, "and this is quite the distraction."

"Worry about your petunias later, Bert," Addy's mom panted, thrusting her ample bosom in Siddiq's face, "and get your ass over here."

Bertie wiped her hands clean of soil. When she neared the pair, she regarded Siddiq and looked him over thoroughly. "My _God_ , you're beautiful."

Siddiq ducked his head. Being promiscuous didn't mean he didn't get bashful whenever someone complimented him.

Bertie blinked. "You shy?"

Siddiq snapped out of it. "When it comes to this, not really." He strolled over to Bertie and pulled her to him and in for a kiss. Addy's mom budged her way in between them on her knees so she could unbuckle and unzip until she inadvertently got dick-slapped with all the force of an erectile projectile.

"Sorry," Siddiq apologized, slipping his hand into Bertie's pants. Sometimes, it felt like he had minimal control over that thing.

"No biggie," Addy's mom gurgled out around her mouthful.

Minutes passed. Siddiq somehow managed to keep on fingering like a bass player (Bertie's words, not his) while getting blown. They asked him how he did it.

"I dunno. Med school?" He shrugged, rotating his wrist and refraining from accidentally gagging Addy's mom. They were about to switch positions when the trailer door burst open, revealing a livid Maggie Rhee.

The women escaped. Siddiq didn't.

"Oh, but yer gonna get it now," she growled. "Yer here to teach medicine, not fuck any lonely middle-aged bird that comes yer way!"

He tried to defend himself, maybe say that he technically didn't fuck either of them, but Maggie wouldn't have it.

"Yer dick was in her mouth, for cripes' sake! I sure wish I coulda gotten back into touch with Michonne! Maybe then she coulda warned me that her town doc is a complete and utter...slut!"

"Okay, fine. Maggie, I'm sorry," Siddiq relented, finally remembering to rezip his pants.

"Get yer ass outta this trailer," she snapped. "Yer comin' with me."

Maggie dragged Siddiq to one of the Hilltop barns by his hair. It was getting long, and this was probably part of the reason why he'd chosen not to cut it, not just because of what Aaron said. She pushed him inside and quickly shut the big wooden doors. No one could see what she was about to do. At least it was nighttime.

Siddiq had fallen face-first in some clean hay, which meant he didn't notice Maggie digging around in Hershel's old diaper bag behind him. Before he could turn around, she was tying him up with lariats and grandma's yarn.

"I–" he started. He hadn't been tied up since...last week?

She slapped him with her cowgirl hat. "Shut up, whore."

"Excuse me–"

Maggie maneuvered him onto his back. Defenseless, his wrists bound with hair scrunchies and 4-H ribbons, he just looked up at her with his best boo-boo face. He knew his eyes were a weapon.

"I'm gonna blow raspberries all over that pretty brown penis of yers, yah hear me now? Don't think I didn't see it when I barged in on yah."

"You can't be serious–" He was actually genuinely surprised by this. Maggie, of all people?

She removed her bandana, stuffed it into his mouth, and opened his pants. "Yah bet on mah husband's grave right around the corner that I am."

_Pffttt! Pbbttt!_

The bandana sufficiently muffled his laughter as she made good on her promise. He would've been thrashing his legs like an epileptic jackrabbit if she hadn't tied them together with camouflage duct tape and catgut. Turned out he was ticklish...everywhere. Maggie slapped his thigh like the butt of her horse.

"Hold still, boy." She pulled down her blue jeans, then her boy shorts, peed on the barn floor like a goat, and prepared to straddle Straddle. "Gonna ride yah like a bull named Fumanchu, now," she groaned.

Siddiq gave her a nod and a thumbs-up, because he was still gagged with her sweaty bandana. Maggie hopped on Pop and had him like that for a few minutes, until she decided, "Fuck me real good and I'll take yah for a ride on mah big green tractor."

He jerked his head down at his limbs. They were still bound with horsehair and dried three-year-old umbilical cord (Maggie had told him not to dispose of it when he delivered baby Hershel).

She quickly freed him. Siddiq stared right at her as he ripped the bandana out of his mouth and threw it on the barn floor with unnecessary force.

"C'mon, doc, fuck me till the cows come home."

He didn't move.

"Yah gonna make me ask nicely now, aren't cha?"

" _Mmm-hmm_."

" _Fine._ " She let out a long breath. "Siddiq, _please_ plow mah fields, till mah land, churn mah butter. Just uh...don't plant yer seed in me. I'm still nursin' Hershel!"

Satisfied, Chitlin grinned his beautiful shiny white grin, kissed her roughly, and fell on top of her for a literal roll in the hay. It would be his last ever fun experience in a barn.

"Ah shouldn't be ashamed of gettin' laid almost four years after losin' mah husband, right?" Maggie asked Siddiq as she drove him back to Alexandria in her big green tractor. He shook his head.

"No. It's totally understandable. You'll always love and miss Glenn, but it would be unfair to you to stay celibate forever."

"Thank yah, doc." Maggie put the tractor in reverse, and its massive back wheels ran over a dumbass walker that had shambled out into the middle of the road behind them.

"Yah might be wonderin' why I haven't been with anyone at Hilltop yet, I suppose," she went on. He shrugged.

"It's not really any of my business."

"Yeah, maybe I've been a bit horny," she admitted, "but mah son is mah main priority, and then mah community, and I haven't really had time to fool around with any guys or gals, yah know?"

"That makes sense." Siddiq stifled a yawn, trying not to doze off. Dawn was breaking. Maggie's big green tractor rolled on. For the rest of the trip, he let her vent to him about her struggles with Hershel wetting the bed, constipated horses, and Alden being annoying and hanging around her "like a needy barn cat".

At last, the tractor pulled up to the gates of Alexandria. Maggie gave a half-asleep Siddiq a wet willy to get his full attention. "Well, I'm sure glad the one to break mah dry spell was a man who knew what he was doing," she told him. "No wonder everyone's tryna fuck yah. See yah round, Sid. Send Michonne mah best." And she planted a goodbye kiss on his cheek before shoving him out of the tractor and driving off, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

The machine was extra big and tall, made for hard farm work, so it was quite the height, but Sugarland landed in front of the gates penis-first, so he was fine.

* * *

It had been around a month since the barn (part I for Siddiq), and his next stop was the Kingdom. He had delivered Jerry and Nabila's first child just a week earlier and was going to check both mother and baby to make sure all was well. He was also curious as to why Michonne's charter had been missing for the last seven months. It had disappeared shortly after she completed it. Maybe someone at the Kingdom knew where it was.

He got there and examined Nabila and her baby boy. Everything looked perfect, and, after joking with Siddiq the way he did with everyone, Jerry got a lollipop and a sticker for being such a good patient.

Siddiq barely had a chance to congratulate the couple on their new addition before half a dozen members of the Kingdom's theater troupe demanded his immediate attention.

"He'd make a good dad one day," Jerry commented, cradling his tiny son with one arm as he watched his fellow Kingdommers hurry Siddiq along. He gave his lollipop a thoughtful lick.

Nabila snorted. "By the looks of it, he doesn't have far to go."

Jerry bit the lollipop clean to the stick. "Always thought he was impossible to say no to."

The troupe members used the Kingdom stage as their play rehearsal location and were still doing so, but half of them were currently engaged in carnal activity with Alexandria's doctor while the rest were watching and touching themselves. Bodily fluids were literally flying everywhere. It was certainly one of Siddiq's stranger sexual experiences so far.

Two women and a man were occupied with him, the female performers riding him, one on his face and one on him cowgirl style while he jerked off the man, making it rather difficult for the three of them to properly recite Shakespeare. Shakespeare, not quite suffocating because he was utilizing proper breathing techniques, wondered if the other three were waiting their turn or just the voyeuristic sorts, but he was willing to bet it was the former.

King Ezekiel walked up to the stage building, hearing sex noises seeping through the door. Being a big fan of the bard himself, he knew some of Shakespeare's works were suggestive and wanted to commend his performers on their dedication to their craft.

The King let out a faint chuckle with a small shake of his head. Yep. "Dedication to their craft". Jerry rushed up to him, stopping him before he could open the door.

"Don't open it, boss. _Just don't_."

Siddiq never did find out what happened to Michonne's charter.

* * *

One summer night about three years after Rick, Cheryl wandered into the infirmary in her robe and slippers, looking for her daughter, and that handsome young doctor. She wanted to nag the former to join her for the weekly senior citizens' summer bingo game at the council hall. She'd refused to listen when Cheryl had asked her before, because she wasn't even fifty yet, but Cheryl was going to rope her into a mother-daughter bingo night, whether she liked it or not!

And Siddiq? Cheryl was getting too old and frail to use the shower by herself without the fear of falling, so she needed the good doc to give her a sponge bath.

Befuddled, the elderly woman paced the room, which was unusually empty. It was unlike Siddiq to be gone for long periods of time, and she'd already searched everywhere for her daughter. No one had bothered to help her, probably because people her age tended to wander off and often became belligerent when redirected.

Cheryl sat her bony old butt down on a cot. "Hun, I swear you've got to be in here...I've looked everywhere! And where's that brown-eyed handsome man?" The town doctor's name suddenly slipped her memory. This happened frequently.

In the supply closet, hearing her mother's voice, Cheryl's daughter hoped she'd forgotten to turn her hearing aids on again, because she wasn't even trying to be quiet as Siddiq pounded her.

"He's making violent love to me, Mother!" she giggled between loud moans, back pressed against the door. She regretted not attending Alexandria's Pilates class earlier to warm up, because she had one leg hoisted over his shoulder and her strained muscles were burning, not that she cared. Better see the doctor later, though.

Cheryl hadn't just forgotten to turn on her hearing aids, she'd forgotten to put them in altogether, but she shuffled over to the closet door after seeing it rattle.

"My, is there a poltergeist in here?" she muttered to herself, wrapping her skinny fingers around the knob and using all of her ninety-eight pounds to force the heavy door open.

"Heavens to Betsy!" she screamed, clutching her thorax and collapsing. Her dentures fell out of her gaping mouth.

SeaBond abruptly pulled out of that evening's lover – who was coincidentally called Betsy – and passed her clothes to her before moving to resuscitate her elderly mother. He'd finished inside Betsy, but she was forty-eight and had told him she'd had a hysterectomy a long time ago, so he didn't have to worry this time.

Siddiq administered CPR to Cheryl, and, knowing her, hoped she wouldn't remember it. Once she was breathing again, he tucked her into one of the cots to rest and monitor her for any signs of permanent damage. She didn't remember what had happened, sheepishly admitting to him that her memory wasn't what it used to be. Siddiq just told her that she'd suffered a fall, leaving her with a concussion but no broken bones, and not to be surprised if the memory issues seemed worse while she recovered from it. He gave her the all-clear to return home the next morning before he had to give her a sponge bath.

In the following weeks, Betsy, even though she lacked a uterus, started experiencing false pregnancy symptoms.

* * *

One evening, relaxing on a couch in the infirmary, Siddiq gnawed on the cap of his pen as he pored over an old medical book, taking notes. His oral fixation was really getting the better of him. Speaking of that, as he chomped on the piece of plastic, he felt something lodged in his teeth and fished it out. It was a tuft of Barbara's ginger pubic hair.

_Huh_ , he thought, barely remembering when it had gotten stuck there. There had been so many. As long as he didn't have to address the gathered communities one day after being the sole survivor of an unspeakable tragedy and come to the disturbing realization while giving his speech that he'd fucked more than half the audience.

The plastic cap was covered in little marks from his teeth, just like close to the entirety of Laura's body. The blonde with the neck tattoo had wanted him to get rough with her, culminating in him fucking her over the table in the council hall shortly before the rest of the council walked in for the weekly meeting. Thankfully, no one had seemed to suspect a thing, except Michonne with her incredible intuition, giving Siddiq one of her disappointed glares the moment she entered the hall, and Nora, who kept on sneaking suspicious glances at both Siddiq and Laura during the whole meeting.

As he thought of the glasses-wearing councilwoman, the infirmary door creaked open, and she stepped in. Siddiq flipped to the next page of his book.

"Hello, Nora."

Wordlessly, she joined him on the couch, by sitting on his lap and parting her thighs. He got the message and slid his left hand into her pants. He continued recording some valuable information about making medicine out of everyday garden herbs while he fingered Nora to completion. Claypool recalled Bertie's bass player comment from about two years ago and turned the page again.

_We ought to be growing aloe in the gardens here_ , he mused as started reading about its healing properties. His fingers hadn't stopped their movement, and he didn't care that Nora was humping his hand like Daryl's dog to his leg. Her head fell back against him as she moaned, her panting fogging up her glasses, and her fabulously moisturized 'fro tickled his neck. He kept on reading and moving his fingers until she came on his hand with a _hoo-boy_. He withdrew his fingers, helped her off his lap, and shook her hand with his clean one.

"You're welcome, Nora, and feel free to come back anytime."

She saw him lick his fingers clean before she left and he returned to his reading and note-taking.

* * *

Siddiq hadn't been doing much hoeing lately. First of all, the ground was frozen, and second of all, he was dealing with an upper respiratory illness that was making its way through Alexandria. For the most part, it had been more irritating than deadly, but that wasn't the case for one particular patient.

Ramona, or "Rona", her preferred nickname, was a middle-aged Alexandrian who was the first to come down with the virus and the most severely afflicted. Siddiq's other, more mildly affected patients recovered well as the days progressed, but Rona showed no signs of improvement despite his best efforts. He'd been a doctor for more than long enough to know that she'd reached the point where he could do little more than keep her comfortable until the end. He was fluffing her pillows, wishing he _could_ do more for her, when her hand reached up to grab his. She croaked out a two-word phrase that Siddiq knew probably wasn't her saying thank you, but he thought it best to feign ignorance.

"You don't have to thank me, Rona. You're my patient. It's my job to take care of you."

"I didn't say thank you," the ailing woman rasped. "I said fuck me. I know I'm not long for this world, Siddiq. My dying wish is your dick."

"I–" Siddiq's mind swam as the long list of pros and cons, mainly cons, flashed through his brain. He knew the idea was more than wrong – she was _dying,_ for crying out loud – but if it truly was the last thing she wanted in life...

"Are you sure that's what you want? I could take you out to watch the sunset or something instead."

"Positive. I'm not leaving this world without experiencing what I know almost everyone else in this town has."

"Well...I'm honored, I guess." Siddiq gave a faint laugh. There was no turning back now. He wasn't concerned about getting sick – he'd already been exposed to the virus and he didn't have the heart to not oblige Rona's dying wish.

He pulled the privacy curtain out around Rona's bed so he could do just that.

Rona passed away peacefully hours later with a smile on her face and part of Siddiq was never the same.

* * *

The following spring, right on the cusp of summer, Alexandria was enjoying a spontaneous outdoor celebration to mark the start of the season, with food, drink, and activities for the kids. Siddiq hadn't yet made his way outside to join the festivities, though. He had been staring at a rather large spider on the infirmary floor for the last fifteen minutes, working up the courage to stomp on it. Much had changed, but his arachnophobia hadn't.

Also, because of the sudden surge in temperatures and lack of an air exchange system, Siddiq had chosen to take off his shirt.

The door opened, startling Siddiq and the spider, and the doctor saw the pest skitter away to probably never be seen again as he jerked his head around, a damp strand of hair catching against his lip.

"Oh– um, Siddiq," Rosita stammered, her gaze dropping down to her bellybutton, exposed by the tight crop top she was wearing, "I–I just was wondering if you're hor– I mean, hung– I mean, hungry, you know, if you wanna eat...with us, since we're got food out there, if you're coming– I mean, if you wanna join us..."

Siddiq didn't trust himself to maintain proper eye contact with her so he just focused on her feet instead. "Yeah, um, I–I'll be right out." And he turned away from her and made a beeline for his bedroom to replace his shirt and beat his boner into submission, but crashed headlong into the infirmary's plastic anatomical model in his haste and blacked out for a half hour.

* * *

_Damn,_ Siddiq thought as he hung a wet, freshly washed blanket up on the clothesline to dry, _I hate doing laundry._

He'd spent the morning going through the bin in the infirmary of dirty sheets and towels, meticulously soaking and scrubbing until they were free of blood and other assorted stains. He didn't like it, but he knew it had to get done at least once a week, if not more. Sometimes, it felt like he was constantly cleaning sheets. It was his own damn fault.

Barbara, without a child near her for once, came up to him as he continued to hang up the washing. "Good afternoon, Siddiq," she said. "May I suck your cock?"

He still couldn't quite remember when he had fooled around with her. It wasn't because their hookup was one he didn't _want_ to remember – those were few and far between – it was more of a matter of he'd been with so many people, some of the encounters tended to blur together in retrospect. But now, he knew he didn't have time to humor Barbara. After he was finished putting up the laundry, it would be time for the first of two afternoon appointments: Gracie's six-year checkup, followed by a physical therapy session for an older patient recovering from a shoulder injury obtained by vigorous masturbation. Then he was planning on sorting through his medicine cupboards before they became dangerously cluttered and grinding up those herbs he'd put to the side days ago for when he had the chance to get to them, all the while staying prepared for emergencies, as was commonplace for him.

"I'm sorry, Barbara," he told her. "I just don't have time today. Herbs don't crush themselves, you know."

Barbara expressed her disappointment by giving Siddiq the most intense death glare he'd ever experienced in his whole life. Was it just his imagination, or did her brown eyes turn red?

"You...fool..." she said, and walked away.

Siddiq was a survivor. He'd had his brushes with death just like almost everyone else in the apocalypse, dealt with more walkers and high-stress medical cases than he could remember – he'd finally lost count of the walkers after the number of souls freed reached the mid two-hundreds – and seen the worst of what humanity was capable of.

Despite all this, Siddiq had never been more afraid.

* * *

They had just celebrated RJ's fourth comatose birthday, nearing five years without his father, when Siddiq rode out to Hilltop for the first time in a while. He needed to talk to Maggie. Practically all communication between Alexandria and Hilltop had ceased, and he assumed Maggie had a problem with Michonne's policy she'd stuck to stubbornly for the last four odd years to put her community first and not accept newcomers, but he had a feeling there was more to it than that. He knew that any deeper grudge was none of his business and he didn't plan on pressing Maggie on it, but he did want to talk with her to possibly facilitate communication again, and hopefully _not_ end it with more barn sex.

So, he arrived, put his horse in the stables, greeted the Suttons, gave Earl a polite, grateful smile when the grumpy old man didn't make another passive-aggressive comment about Siddiq being unable to save his son half a decade ago, got uncomfortable when Tammy Rose started openly ogling him, looked for Maggie, removed a little boy's splinter when the kid ran up to him holding out his thumb, accidentally induced an orgy, treated a seven-year-old with a stomach bug, let a gang of giggling teenage girls briefly touch his hair, avoided Alden because he smelled, caught up with Hilltop's proud new doctor Enid, and didn't even accomplish what he was there to do.

"Maggie's gone," Jesus told him as they were spooning together naked after the orgy. Everyone else had already cleared out.

"What?" he gasped, so surprised that he almost swatted Jesus' hand away when the other man snuck it between them to reach for Siddiq's effervescent penis again. Almost.

"Yeah, took her kid and went off with Georgie," Jesus explained, stroking Siddiq steadily. "But don't tell Michonne that. Maggie didn't want her to know. I don't know why that was."

Siddiq, dumbfounded, didn't have a chance to process the news before Jesus squirmed out of his arms to assume the position.

"You gonna fuck me again or what?"

* * *

Close to six years after Rick, a disgruntled seeming Rosita stopped by the infirmary with her arms full of blankets. Siddiq looked up from the book he was reading in time for her to drop them on his lap.

"Brought these for you," she said gruffly.

"Rosita, it's eighty degrees out. I don't think I need a dozen woolen blankets," he joked, but he was already getting to his feet so he could carry them over to the shelves where he stored blankets. He had plenty of blankets, but was always grateful to accept more because he hated doing laundry.

Rosita, still looking irritated, hadn't left. Finally, she spoke. "Can I spill my guts?"

"If you don't mean literally, sure." Siddiq walked over to where two cots were pushed close together to form a makeshift double size bed. Sitting down on the cot on the right, he patted its mate. "I just cleaned the floor."

She cracked a smile and relaxed on her back on the cot with a heavy sigh. Siddiq let his head hit his pillow, too.

They lay like that for about a minute, two friends unwinding together, until Siddiq asked, "So, what's bothering you?"

She huffed. "Men."

"Well, that makes me feel just _great_ , Rosita."

She chuckled. "No offense."

"None taken."

"More specifically, old men who feel the need to call me a whore."

"Let me guess, Melvin from down the street?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"What a bitter, old, _ugly_ asshole." Siddiq made a face in disgust, thinking of the unsightly old man who didn't seem to possess an ounce of kindness. Siddiq himself had been the subject of his verbal abuse a few times. "Remind me not to resuscitate him if he ever needs CPR."

"I'd actually rather you intentionally break all his ribs if that ever happens." Then, she added, "You're right about the ugly part. Fucker looks like a _bulldog_."

They shared a laugh, but Siddiq could tell Rosita was still upset.

"It's really not far that he called you that, Rosita. Sometimes, old people can be the _worst_."

"It's like he thought I'm out fucking anyone who crosses my path!" she burst out. She elbowed him playfully. "Oh wait, that's you."

He cracked up. "You're right, my friend. I'm the only whore between the two of us. Want to hear about the time Frankie pegged me?"

She beamed brightly. "That sounds like a story for another day. But" – she groaned and rubbed a hand down her face – "I just don't _get_ it, Siddiq. I haven't been with anyone in a long time. Is it because I was wearing shorts...in eighty-degree weather?"

"Don't blame yourself." Siddiq shook his head, taking his pen out of his mouth. He was chewing on the cap again and didn't even realize it. "It doesn't matter if you were wearing shorts. Hell, even if you _were_ regularly having sex with different people, like yours truly, that doesn't excuse it, either."

"I knew that, Siddiq, but it doesn't mean that what Melvin said didn't bother me," Rosita sighed. "I'm just trying to figure out what _his_ motivation was for calling me that, other than just being a bitter, old, ugly asshole." She paused. "You know, it's probably because some men have a problem with women. That, and society does."

" _Bingo_." Siddiq fidgeted with his pen and stretched his legs out, his left foot accidentally bumping her right. He thought about a conversation he had with Michonne over four years ago. He also thought about Maggie yeehawing during climax.

"Does it bother you when people call you a whore?" she suddenly asked, turning to her right to face him. "If anyone ever does? You know, because men don't usually get called whores?"

"Me? Nah. Yes, I've been called a whore. Notably by Maggie. But, you're right, men aren't usually called whores."

"And that's fucked...wait, Maggie?" Rosita gaped in surprise. "Even her? Before she left?"

"I shouldn't have told you she left, but you're correct. She also called me a slut. Potato, po-tah-to."

"I take it you had sex with her."

"Correct again."

Rosita snorted, settling back down on the cot. "I can't _fucking_ believe you."

Siddiq's pen returned to his mouth, teeth worrying at the plastic. Rosita noticed, flipping onto her side again.

"Siddiq, if you don't stop chewing on that fucking pen, I am going to rip it out of your mouth and shove it up your ass like Frankie's strap-on."

"I have an oral fixation, Rosita."

There was a ~pregnant~ pause between them. The sexual tension was reaching its breaking point, like a dam about to burst. A dam of sexiness.

Siddiq pocketed his pen. "May I–"

"Yes, you may," was her immediate response. Then, with a smirk, " _Whore._ "

Grinning, he rolled to his left and leaned over her to press an ironically chaste kiss to her (facial) lips, as though he wasn't planning to eat her out with all the gusto of a freshly reanimated, ravenous walker lunging for a defenseless infant.

(While this was going down, Melvin and Eugene were stuck in the middle of the street, heaped on top of each other in agony after facing Rosita's wrath. Melvin had definitely paid for insulting her for no reason, and she wasn't in the mood to put up with Eugene's shit when he saw her approaching the infirmary and tried to show her an equation he'd created to calculate how many people her friend Siddiq had slept with. The other Alexandrians out and about just ignored the two groaning losers lying there because no one really cared. They had both pooped themselves.)

Once her shorts and underwear were off, or at least down to her ankles, which was made slightly difficult because they were both struggling to remove them at the same time and ended up in a bit of a tug of war for a few seconds, Siddiq went at it. He thought about trying to be funny and keep with their playful banter by asking her, _do you like that?_ , but didn't, because he didn't think he'd be able to say it without laughing, so he contented himself with gazing up at her with those weaponous eyes of his. Chicks dug that.

It wasn't long before Rosita broke his nose. As in, literally broke his nose, by accident.

He should've known when she started thrashing the way she did, but at least he'd had the foresight to hold onto her iliac crests for dear life. Otherwise, he probably would've been launched across the room and into the IV poles. It was his mistake to underestimate the strength of her pelvic girdle. When she came, her pelvic outlet slammed full force into his face like a battering ram, and his sexily oversized nose was no match for her powerful pubic symphysis. His eyes watering with tears of joy and pain, Symphysis did feel his teeth rattle, the searing crack of bone, and the gush of blood draining out, but he didn't let up until Rosita was pushing his head away. He even pulled her pants back up for her because he was a gentleman.

He resurfaced, Rosita saw his face, and screamed. "WHAT THE–"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted, his teeth, nose, and dick aching. But he didn't care. It was a job well done. He was America, drenched in blood, sweat, tears, and vaginal fluid.

Rosita urged him over to the sink and wet a washcloth to wipe the blood off his face anyway. She noted with embarrassment that she'd accidentally yanked out a chunk of his hair as well. He didn't even notice. She had released her hand from his hair to find it sitting there in her palm. He told her not to worry because he had plenty of hair to spare. She decided to keep the chunk of hair and it would become one of her most prized possessions after she lost him.

Michonne then materialized, RJ in tow. Siddiq had scheduled an appointment with her earlier to bring her son in for an exam, as he'd had a persistent cough for the last couple days. The boy, now just a month away from turning five, was dozing off as usual and thankfully oblivious to Siddiq and Rosita, but his mother wasn't, and she quickly put two and two together, giving her friends a meaningful eyebrow raise.

Rosita set the stained washcloth to the side and patted the side of Siddiq's now clean face.

"He finished like a champ, Michonne."

That night, Siddiq stood in front of his bedroom mirror, fixing his broken nose up with some strips of medical tape. Once that was done, he grabbed a hair tie and tried to pull his chin-length locks back in such a way that his small bald spot wasn't visible. Hopefully, it wouldn't look too silly.

Looking in the mirror, he saw Rosita cautiously step into the room, like she was searching for something. It must not have been in the infirmary, because she most likely would've passed through to get to his room.

When he whirled around to smile at her, tape nose and all, she winced and shifted.

"Yeah, Siddiq, sorry about that..."

"Don't be. I'm glad I made you–"

Seabiscuit blinked, and Rosita, having forgotten about the pain radiating around her pubic arch from her crotch colliding with his face hours ago and her desire for an ice pack, was riding him like Seabiscuit.

"Squeeze my neck," Siddiq panted out from under her, not sure why he was requesting it, "not too hard, just please– squeeze my neck."

Rosita's dark eyes narrowed with amusement, but she complied.

"Well, I hope you don't regret saying that one day."

* * *

The next morning, Siddiq sat in his office, absentmindedly spinning himself in his office chair. He hadn't gotten much sleep and his nose still hurt, but he didn't care.

The door opened and someone entered while Siddiq's chair was turned. Sit 'N Spin spun around to face the visitor and immediately frowned.

"Alden. What are you doing here?"

"I...wanTED to TAlk," the Hilltop resident replied in his confusing irritating accent, "to YOU– oh, whAT haPPENed to YOUR noSE?"

Alien smelled as awful as ever, like manure and hogwash with a hint of desperation. Spatula sighed and wished his injury would've temporarily ruined his sense of smell because the stench was truly overpowering.

"I was hit. It was an accident." It technically wasn't a lie. "What can I do for you?" _Best to just get it over with,_ he thought.

Almond sat down in another chair that was mere inches away from Soundgarden's. Scoliosis wanted to snap at him that there was a rule in his clinic that all occupants had to be at least six feet apart to prevent the spread of germs, which obviously wasn't the truth, but Aiden _was_ a germ. Salami swore he could feel Alvin's scraggly pubeish beard tickling his skin.

"I...WAnt to KNOW how TO TAlk to giRLS," Arden told him. "I KNOW the giRLS loVE YOU and I neED ADvice...I USED to siNG for MagGIE AND SHe'd juST TELL me TO fuCK OFF, and NOW theRE'S THis giRL I reALLy LIKE, E–"

He was interrupted by the arrival of Rosita. Squeegee was grateful that Arnold made the prudent choice to shut up and leave, because even if Rosita hadn't shown up, he simply couldn't stand to hear the guy's voice another minute longer.

Socrates stared at the square of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of Elton's shoe as he shuffled out the door.

Rosita strolled over to take a seat in Olden's empty chair. She stood up again almost immediately. "Oh, yuck, it's really warm and gross, like a public restroom toilet seat." So, she did the natural thing to do and sat on Serendipity's lap instead.

"Thanks for saving me from him."

"Don't mention it. You earned it. Now, would you rather have a long-winded conversation about romance or potential lack thereof, or just fuck?"

"Hmm. The latter."

Meanwhile, Gabriel sat in church, ~~preying~~ praying. He and his milky eye just wanted to be loved by a hot woman. He went over to the Holy Table, picked up a soggy communion wafer, dipped into a goblet of flavorless communion wine, and ate it while sobbing. He lifted the goblet and hurled it into nearest wall, glass shards and wine raining down to make a mess all over the wall and floor.

Upon the realization that he would have to clean it all up, he collapsed into the fetal position, still sobbing.

An hour or two later, the infirmary was in disarray. Stupendous was half buried under a heap of blankets as they'd bumped into his overflowing blanket shelf, sending it toppling. Rosita was draped over his bare back, seemingly unable to move. She summoned enough strength to pull a few of the blankets off his head. "Same time tomorrow?"

He grinned against the blankets before letting his face fall back into them. "Mmm-hmm."

Suddenly, in walked Michonne, the woman nearly tripping over a half-empty jar of hot wax that had ended up near the door.

"Hate to bother you two, but I think my son has narcolepsy."

* * *

One month later, Aaron and Scott rushed up to the infirmary, carrying a grievously injured Alexandrian between them. Bleeding out after a construction accident involving a flying hacksaw, the man would die without immediate medical attention.

Aaron flung the door open with his free hand, his metal one, with tremendous force.

"SHIT!" Scott and Aaron exclaimed in unison.

The shock of being walked in on made Siddiq climax violently and profusely, with no warning whatsoever.

"SHIT! I'M OVULATING!" Flat on her back on an exam table, Rosita cringed and shoved the doctor off and out of her, sharply swatting him multiple times while he repeatedly apologized and shielded his face. "I'm not ready to be a mami, you horny bastard!"

Strong, silent Scott cleared his throat. "Ahem..."

It was chaos. Rosita limped off to the bathroom to clean herself up, dripping all the way; Sperm flew into action to save the man's life and realized there was nothing he could do at that point; Aaron tried his best to ignore the massive boner he'd sprouted witnessing Siddiq have an intense orgasm, but not for the first time; and Scott just shook his shiny bald head at the madness of it all.

A funeral was held and the hacksaw accident victim was buried. SadDick moped off the infirmary after the service, beating himself up inside. He could've saved that man, if he'd gotten to him right away, if he hadn't been...

"Hey." Rosita's voice interrupted his thoughts. She joined Serotonin Deficiency on the cot he was sitting on, head in his hands, and rubbed his back comfortingly. "Listen, I understand you're upset that guy died, but I know you know not every patient will live–"

"A man bled out because I was too busy nutting, Rosita!" He stood up and started gesticulating wildly. Rosita was beginning to gestate wildly. "I'm such a whore, I can't even do my job! My dick killed that man! He probably had a family and everything! This town lost a good man because of my stratospheric libido!" His penis wanted to punch the wall, uncontrollable thing that it was. "I'm a failure!" Stratosphere slumped back down on the cot, sighing. "I'm sorry, Rosita. You don't deserve to be fucking such a horny loser as myself."

"Siddiq," Rosita told him firmly, "that man died because of a _freak accident_. You – and your dick – are not to blame. I know you did everything you could to try and save him."

"But I..." His voice trailed off. He knew she was right, but he still felt like septic walker ass to the point that he wanted to stick his face in a bowl of ice water and scream. He had to do something to ensure that this never happened again, and he knew what that was, as much as wished he didn't have to.

"Rosita, I don't like this, but I think I'm gonna have to lay off sex for a while."

Rosita understood where Siddiq was coming from, but they still parted ways rather regretfully. Three months later, Rosita had only recently entered a relationship with Gabriel – as bizarre a couple they seemed to Siddiq – when she told him she was pregnant.

_Huh,_ he had thought. In all honesty, he'd assumed there was a pretty good chance of this from the moment she screamed at him that she was ovulating (he'd earned those smacks). He didn't act shocked at the news when shared it with him, because he really wasn't, so there was no need for him to have pretended otherwise, but he just wished he could've come up with a better response than "okay". Then, he didn't have a clue that he'd be spending approximately a year suffering after contracting PTSD from Alpha, leading up to his eventual death because, yes, he did end up regretting ever asking Rosita to choke him during sex, but at least one bright spot came with the birth of his daughter.

When he pulled out Socorro because he hadn't, he cried when she did, feeling the overwhelming surge of love for his child that came with finally being a father, mixed with pride and relief that his sluttiness had at last produced something even more important than thousands of earth- and nose-shattering orgasms.

Coco, as they were calling her for short, had plenty of visitors in her first few days of life, friends of Siddiq and Rosita who stopped by to ooh and aah over their daughter's cuteness. Aaron was one of them, bringing his own daughter with him because he knew how much Gracie loved babies.

Aaron helped his little girl carefully cradle the baby with permission from her parents, and Gabriel, who was also there, and Gracie's face lit up with her toothy eight-year-old grin. Aaron was as happy as his daughter to see a healthy new baby, but couldn't help feeling a little awkward, knowing he'd probably witnessed her conception. That and the fact he'd had a brief sexual encounter with her father several years ago. Aaron would never forget that.

The memory was suddenly too much, so Aaron, after saying goodbye to Siddiq and Rosita, congratulating them, and cooing at little Coco how pretty she was, told Gracie it was time to go home and that she could play with her dolls quietly in her room before dinner.

Once she was tucked away, Aaron scurried off somewhere private to beat his meat.

Sitting in a rocking chair with his baby in his arms, Siddiq didn't know it would be one of the last moments he'd ever have with her in this life. Everything was going wrong: Rosita and many others were sick and he didn't know why, including old Cheryl, who still made it no secret that she wanted more from him than a glass of water or cold compress; his creepy coworker had a similar infatuation with him; the Whisperers were as present and threatening as ever; _and_ he was a mental mess, but at least he had Coco to live for.

Gazing down at his daughter's cherubic face, his heart swelling with love for her, Siddiq inwardly thanked the hacksaw accident victim for her existence, but then he had yet another breakdown, woke up on a fucking balcony, and got murdered by his creepy coworker less than forty-eight hours later.

* * *

Several months after his death, Siddiq, now a ghost, wandered the outskirts of Alexandria, his shoulder-length curls fluttering in the breeze. Coco would be turning a year old very soon, and he had to find a way to see his baby girl again. He wouldn't let his being dead stop him.

He rambled on, tugging at the white dress that clung uncomfortably to his body. When he became a ghost, he glanced down to see that he was wearing it, with no explanation whatsoever. It was at least two sizes too small and constricted his junk, not that he had to worry about losing circulation in his state. It also had a plunging neckline, and he was pretty sure the designer had intended for the wearer to be showing off cleavage instead of a hint of pecs and smattering of chest hair.

But his outfit was the least of his concerns. His mind buzzed with thoughts of all that he was missing out on. Was Coco walking? Talking? Had Gabriel stepped up? Did Rosita miss him as much as he missed her?

He sat down, white silken fabric stretching out tightly over his thighs. He was staring into space, lost in his thoughts, when he saw the blur of a familiar figure emerge from the trees many yards away, immediately recognizable to him despite the distance.

_Could it...could it be..._

Siddiq took off running, hair billowing, while his far-away love did the same. His dress was so snug it was hard for him to run in it, causing him to fall on his face twice, but he got to his feet again in the blink of an eye both times. Time seemed to slow down, but actually because they both happened to be running in slow motion.

They reached each other and just stood staring for a solid minute.

"Nice dress," Rosita finally deadpanned. Before he could respond, a massive grin spread across her face and she embraced him, seemingly not fazed by the coldness of his new body. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

After they let go of each other, Spiritual awkwardly patted her, a bit in denial yet. The only thing he could think to say was, "Coco..."

"She's fine, she's great. Babbles and takes a few steps at a time. But she keeps on going, 'Dada, dada', and that's why I came looking for you."

His eyes welled up with phantom tears because ghosts couldn't cry. "But I'm dead! And isn't Gabriel 'Dada' now?"

Rosita shook her head. "He died in the war. The Whisperers are gone. I'm raising Coco by myself."

Siddiq blinked in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that–"

She cut him off. "Nah, it's been nice. We probably would've broken up anyway. Eugene's out of my hair too, away with some woman he met over the radio." She paused so she could cup his face to look him squarely in the eyes. "But I want our baby to have her real daddy in her life, his ghostliness be damned. I'm here to take you home, Siddiq."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Siddiq knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, "Marry me, Rosita Espinosa. I know we were only having our fun together for a month, but it's been my honor and privilege to be your baby daddy, and I want to spend the rest of my..." He shifted to the other knee, as the bottom of his white dress was riding up and getting far too close to dangerous areas, "...afterlife with you. Michonne was right all those years ago when she told me you and I should be together. My manwhore ways are far behind me. Please, Rosita, you're the only woman for me, and I would love it if you broke my nose with your vagina every night for all of eternity."

Rosita burst into tears, an action that was very much unlike her. "Oh, Siddiq, that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me! Yes, I'll marry you! I don't care you're dead. Now, let's go home and be a family."

Hand in hand, the couple set off walking into the sunset back to their home in Alexandria.


End file.
